


The Cheer Fae Bride

by merryfortune



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Brainwashing, F/M, Sexism, Violence, implied Dennis/Ruri, implied Ruri/Yuto, unrequited Yuri/Sayaka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 06:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13712199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merryfortune/pseuds/merryfortune
Summary: Upon the Wartime Solstice, the tournament for the Cheer Fae Bride has begun. With only two duellists left, one shall be crowned as her Lady Sayaka's groom in his victory.





	The Cheer Fae Bride

   The pattern juggler known as Dennis lifted his arm. He smiled, and his actions were met with resounding applause. He took an over-the-top bow. His fingertips grazed the cracked stone of the gladiatorial amphitheatre in testament to his flexibility. He reared back up and took another two, smaller bows.

   “Ladies and gentlemen!” he yelled.

   His voice cut through the din and awoke a great fear in Shun’s heart. He straightened up and sheathed his sword. He swallowed.

   “Distinguished guests and beyond!”

   Dennis’ voice was everywhere. It was heard by even those standing furthest away from wherein the duels were held. His voice resounded in Shun’s ears and rattled the cage in which he waited.

   “We’ve been waiting a very long time for this, haven’t we?” Dennis asked.

   Agreement boomed through the amphitheatre. Shun was inclined to agree. The tournament had been held over days after all and all the bloodshed had led to two remaining contestants: himself and that heinous villain, Yuri. Though, he also supposed to had been a long time in a different sense.

   It had been a long time since he had last known her beautiful face. It had been a long time since he had known her companionship as a child. It had been a long time since he had known peace.

   Shun steeled his resolve. He took a deep breath and let his conviction fill his veins like his blood and breath did. It was his destiny to reclaim her. He could not allow her innocence to be defiled by her title and by the hands of Yuri. That was his vow to her. They had once promised to be inseparable and if it was by marriage which kept them close and bound, so be it.

   “Dearest folk of four realms, it is time we re-introduce our remaining champions.” Dennis said. His voice grew low. “Hailing from our very own homeland of Fusion, we have the princeling they call the Starve Venom Dragon: Yuri!”

   Shun winced. Hearing the name was different to thinking the name. Hearing the name was like a slap to the face.

   Shun raised his head and peaked through the bars of his cage. He heard the grating sound of stone grinding against stone. He could barely see it but just ahead that Yuri had been let out of his cage. At least in Hell, there was fairness.

   Yuri strutted out. His scarlet, fur-lined cape fluttered as he strode forth. He bore no weaponry upon his belt. He basked in glory as the people from his homeland applauded him. He was the uncontested favourite. In prior rounds of the dueling, he had knocked out the likes of the other princes: Yugo, Yuto, and Yuya. His swordsmanship was unparalleled: cruel and vicious, much like his sense of self. Nevertheless, he was loved.

   “Oi, XYZ whelp,” a guard grunted to Shun and he turned around, “leave your sword here. You know the rules.”

   Shun soundlessly unwound his belt from his waist. He dramatically shed his beloved sword which had served him well through the other duels. He had cut and slashed through his own share of dummies in his youth but now, the practice had served well in this cursed carnival. He had felled many of his fellow “Lancers” – common folk who had been picked especially to complement the blue-bloods in this tournament. And, now, his skill and talent had brought him here: the very end.

   “Hailing from the realm of XYZ, we have the Lancer Shun of Clover.”

   Wheels began to turn, and the stone began to slide. A key slotted into a lock and Shun, with much supervision, was permitted to leave his holding cell. As he stepped out, the audience turned. This was the home ground of Fusion, after all, and scum like himself was not allowed to tread upon holy ground and yet he had. He had fought here, and he had won here. As such, the audience wailed and howled. Mocked him and made it known that he was not welcome.

   Dennis waved at the audience. He shot a sympathetic look towards Shun.

   “Come, come, good guests, we must show all our duellists respect.” Dennis said but it was in vain.

   The harlequin of Fusion was a known sympathiser to the plight of XYZ. He had spent some of his formative years abroad. Shun would know, after all, as he had allowed the youth into his home a few times for dinner and had, unfortunately, witnessed Dennis’ lovestruck eyes for his sister. All love is unrequited, apparently. Or at least in Shun’s experiences.

   He vied for she who is unattainable. Dennis vied for she who is unattainable. His sister vied for he who is unattainable. Was there anyone in any of the realms whose love had been mutual and for a person who was within reach?

   Perhaps, perhaps not. Either way, Shun had an opportunity to turn the tides of such misery. He would take his sword in hand and he would defy the misfortune. It was better to fail in blood than to have regret in peace. That was the conviction Shun had entered this tournament with and it would be the conviction he left this tournament with: dead or alive, that was what he had resolved.

   Yuri smiled a smile that was as sharp as his sabre. His eyes narrowed and if he were not such a callous person, it would almost have been a serene expression. It disgusted Shun.

   “Are you excited… Shun?” Yuri murmured.

   Shun swallowed. He did not reply. His heart hammered in his chest.

   “And now, the young lady we have all been waiting for…”

   Dennis began with a drawl that brought people in a thrall, not unlike a rapid beat of drums that built towards excited trepidation. When he spoke next, his voice burst into a crescendo and his arms flung back:

   “The Cheer Fae Bride!”

   Descending from a staircase and from the bondage of the near godly folks who ruled above even those of the princes’ fathers came her: The Cheer Fae Bride.

   Shun couldn’t bear to see her but it had been so long since her visage had graced him so, he was unable to tear his gaze away from her. Yuri was enamoured with her. A cruel grin split across his face as his shoulders rose: a held breath.

   She looked wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be wearing the garb of Fusion, and yet she was. She wore a violet military-like vestment upon her torso and a crimson cape that sprawled over several feet. She was put in a corset and done up like a doll with its golden strings drawn in tight. From her waist down, she was embroiled in thick, purple fabrics and many layers so that she looked decadent.

   Beautiful clothes were not suitable for someone like her, as mean as such a thought may come across. She belonged in simple clothes mended and mended once more over years. She belonged in paler colours and thinner fabrics which didn’t seem so violent in association. The garb of Fusion was not the garb she ought to be wearing.

   And yet, that’s what she wore.

   She was just a poor girl from a poor family and yet, there was a crown upon her head. A golden tiara that was embroiled in as part as the braids she wore. Her forehead was exposed for all to see and the Mark upon it was more easily known than ever. Makeup and other fanciful paints had been placed upon her face, so the Mark would become more prominent.

   Shun became wistful, momentarily distracted as he had no choice but to watch her descend from those sandstone steps. He could recall the first time she had shown him the Mark. She had gotten in close to his face and he seen all sorts of azure specks in her blue eyes. She pouted and pushed her fringe out of the way. Shun was awed by the Mark above her eyebrows. It was like an abstracted, pale pink flower, spiraling out like a dancer. It was cute. She was cute. They had been younger then and hadn’t truly realised what the Mark’s meaning would entail.

   The flower upon her forehead was more like a weed. It had sprouted slowly over her life and now that it had taken root, it had ruined her. After all, that Mark was the Mark of the Cheer Fae Bride and nominated the lady who would possess the potential for everything: power, wealth, luck, and more.

   Shun wanted no such luxuries. He was content with the soured life of a poor man with a poor family in a poor country. He merely wanted her companionship and, should he earn it, perhaps her love.

   Yuri was the utter opposite of such niceties. He hungered for authority and power. He desired riches beyond compare. He did not want her love, he wanted the materials in which she would become at his disposal.

   “The Cheer Fae Bride of our generation: Lady Sayaka of Clover. That is to say: Lady Sayaka of the XYZ Realm.” Dennis continued.

   The role of the Cheer Fae Bride was not a role designated by bloodlines but merely fate. Once every five decades, a new Cheer Fae Bride would be born somewhere among the four realms. The soul of the previous Cheer Fae Bride would be reincarnated. Every death, a birth. However, the reincarnation is a slow process as the Mark takes many years to reveal itself upon the forehead of the new Cheer Fae Bride, usually somewhere between thirteen and sixteen years. By eighteen, the Mark would be fully formed and upon the Wartime Solstice, the tournament for the Cheer Fae Bride would begin.

   The Princes and, sometimes, Princesses among the realms would gather for the duels. Their associates would scour the land in search of worthy Lancers: common folk whose talent with the sword was comparable to that of the blue-blooded heirs.

   Shun had been the only champion of XYZ chosen. This was because XYZ was a laughably poor land, ruined by war with Fusion. But, he was true with the blade and he had more than earned his right to stand beside the champions of the wealthier lands. After all, this was final round and he remained. Not them.

   With a dainty step forward, Sayaka arrived. She lifted her head and her tiara gleamed in the sunlight. There were tears in her eyes, but she tried so very hard to remain composed. Her shoulders rolled back, and she bowed her head.

   “Greetings.” she said. Her voice was calculatedly even.

   Dennis beamed. Yuri smiled. Shun’s stomach turned. They were mere minutes away from the beginning of the final duel and the final duel was always fought with an unusual rule hence why Shun had to abandon his faithful sword and why Yuri had stridden into the arena bearing no weapons.

   “In accordance to the rules of the duels, our duellists Prince Yuri and Sir Shun have discarded the swords which have served them thus far.” Dennis informed the audience.

   Sayaka stiffened as she stepped between Yuri and Shun. She shivered.

   “The final duellists must fight with the favour the Cheer Fae Bride bestows upon them.” Dennis said.

   “I wish nothing but the best for the both of you, my lords.” Sayaka told them.

   “Given that this is the domain of Prince Yuri, he shall be the first to draw forth his sword.” Dennis decided.

   “With pleasure.” Yuri replied.

   Shun did not want to watch but he was forced to.

   Yuri took Sayaka by the hand and let her into a twirl. He treated her like he would a partner in dance. Sayaka was hesitant but she had been trained for this moment ever since it was discovered she was the reincarnated Cheer Fae Bride. She had to be impeccably polite and able to abide by the will of the one who may become her spouse.

   Yuri spun her in close so that her back was against his chest. He smiled, and groped her chest. His hands plunged between the middle of her breasts and he grasped onto her. He took no pleasure in fondling her. He treated her as he would treat the sheathe of a sword. He was only trying to bring forth the hilt of his weapon. Slowly, he was able to draw forth a weapon from within her.

   Sayaka whimpered. Yuri hissed at her and her mouth closed tight. In a grandiose arc, Yuri swung the blade and Sayaka’s head tilted backward. The tip of the sword barely missed the tip of her chin. She did not whimper but there was fear in her eyes. The sword Yuri had drawn forth was beautiful. More beautiful than Shun had hoped.

   Yuri’s blade glittered as it caught the sunshine. It was a magnificent manipulation of steel and jewels. It was artful and gorgeous. It was in possession of two distinct and drastically different motifs: of plants and of dragons. Both floral and draconic influence were present along the hilt he gracefully controlled it from. The blade itself was slightly serrated and seemed to hunger.

   The type of sword drawn forth could not be controlled. After all, the swords were favours from the Cheer Fae Bride and measures of the affection the Bride had for her suitor. Previous Cheer Fae Brides had been responsible for drawing forth gorgeous weapons encrusted with jewels in karats previously unknown. They had also been responsible for drawing forth weapons which were not blades but simple hunks of wood.

   Shun feared what sort of blade he might draw from Sayaka. Yuri had been able to win a magnificent sword. The council who had conditioned Sayaka for her role of Cheer Fae Bride had likely robbed her of her most treasured memories of her time with Shun and their other friends so, it was possible, that she had been taught to favour Fusion of XYZ and as a result, Shun may become of the duellists who had drawn forth bamboo over a blade.

   “Thank you, dearest Sayaka.” Yuri told her, and he let go of her waist.

   She was quick to rid herself of his personal space. She fumbled with a curtsey.

   “I wish the best in this most honourable duel.” she told him.

   Shun dearly hoped that was a lie. Her beautiful, big blue eyes were so empty. They were devoid of all the personality Sayaka had endeared herself to Shun in their youth.

   “Why thank you… my love.” Yuri teased.

   He flashed a poisonous glance at Shun.

   “May the best man win.” he told him.

   Again, Shun did not reply.

   Shun knelt down and he took Sayaka by the hand. He knew, deep down, that she did not care if she was spun around or treated like a doll. That was part of the Cheer Fae Bride training but Shun was against it. He wanted to treat her as she ought to be. After all, he would be one to help her heal in the aftermath of this accursed tournament.

   He kissed the back of her hand. There was a twitch of her lips, an almost quirk but it was soon quashed. She remained composed. The audience jeered Shun. They mocked him. They yelled at him, threated him. They told him that his kind action was born of selfishness and that he – a plebeian in the court of Fusion – was attempting some sort of subterfuge in order to gain a better favour from Sayaka to duel with.

   He ignored them. He rose back to his feet. Shun gently placed his hand upon Sayaka’s chest; above her breast, above her heart. He concentrated. She sighed. Slowly, he was able to feel the hilt of a sword rise from within her. He grasped onto it. With a ferocious yank, Shun drew forth the blade.

   It the air with a gleam. It was heavy. Very heavy. But Shun’s grip did not falter as he looked along the edge of the blade. It seemed so sharp that merely looking at it would cause a cut. It bore a cumbersome aesthetic that was not as free in style as the sword Yuri had drawn. Shun’s seem mechanical but it seemed to have a quality of freeness to it; like a caged bird had freeness despite bound wings. It bore no jewels but was bright, steely, regardless. It looked like a sword of fortitude and quiet strength.

   Shun breathed in. He trusted the blade that Sayaka had given him.

   A glint of mischief appeared in Dennis’ eyes as he spun about, dizzily, on the stage like one would expect of someone of his joking station. He put his fingers to his lips and winked. If Shun did not know better, he would mistake such action for sympathy even though it would be a betrayal to his court.

   “And now, we duel!” Dennis announced.

   On the twirl of his feet, he bounced off. With his playful scamper to the sidelines, where he would be safe from the swinging of steel, all goodwill vanished from the arena. There was a pause in which eyes locked and convictions clashed.

   Sayaka held onto her own hands in prayer. She was not permitted to leave. She was just as much as a decoration to the arena like the spiked, stone walls and chains of flowers that hung over them. Her eyes fluttered closed; her soul shed a tear when she could not. She hoped for an outcome favourable to herself because this was her last chance to be selfish before destruction. Destruction of herself, destruction of her first love, and destruction of her homeland.

   “May the best man win.” Yuri taunted.

   “Aye.” Shun agreed.

   He did not allow his true feelings – his true feelings that were as vehement as a fervent storm – to penetrate his voice. He was to remain calm and calculated. He could not allow Yuri to play mind games with him.

   Yuri stepped forward. At first, it was just a half-hearted step that was nearly as playful as the footwork of his harlequin but then, it turned to something else. It was a swift change. It came with a surge.

   His sword pointed forth in a violent yet elegant thrust. Shun dodged. He was not as graceful, but he was just as violent. He pushed his sword through the air. It was heavy upon his arm, straining it, but it taught him patience in his fury. However, he was well aware that he was not in a situation wherein he had the luxury of learning, of getting to know, his blade.

   Yuri’s movements were perfect. They were a symphony of slashing, slicing and stabbing. His favour matched him completely. And, somewhere beneath the growing hot adrenaline, it tortured Shun. He was infected with a jealousy. A concern.

   Did Sayaka favour the realm of Fusion – did she favour Yuri, the enemy – over him, her childhood friend? Over her homeland of XYZ and the county of Clover?

   Surely not. Hopefully not.

   Yuri’s sword poked and prodded. It teethed on Shun’s clothes, lightweight armour of varied fabrics and leather, and bit holes into it. Yuri laughed venomously. It was just a game to him. There was evil in his wide, almost cherubic eyes.

   “Come now, Shun,” he began as he sauntered closer and easily wielded his blade without so much as a single drop of sweat running down the side of his face unlike Shun who was already a mess under the unrelenting sun of the Wartime Solstice, “surely you can do more to entertain me than this?”

   Shun had been on the defensive for some time. His movements were sluggish, hindered by the weight of his sword and its newness in his hands. He had been firm in his parries. He had tried to defy Yuri and his elegant onslaught but all it had done was walked them around in circles.

    It had been humiliation. For Shun, he fought like he fought in a war. His previous duels had been quick to begin, quick to finish. There had been seriousness and mutual respect: understanding the inhumane stakes and it proved, sufficiently, to Shun that the other princes of the realms were human.

   This was different. Yuri did not fight. He played. He teased, and he taunted, and he bullied. Yuri was making it overwhelmingly apparent that his skill with a blade was tempered in the childlike cruelty of one swathed in sadism and privilege. It was sickening of him but also beautiful of him as it made exemplary notice of his honed talents that festered inside his insidious character.

   Furthermore, this style of combat of Yuri’s was encouraged by the audience, by his people. They relished the entertainment of it. Yuri left nothing for want. His people jeered and cheered: a thundering ordinance that dominated the whole of the arena and create an emanating superiority around Yuri as he relished the attention.

   Shun was not of that type of man. He was of the night and of the shadow. He preferred it quiet. This contributed to an ongoing duress.

   This was a losing fight. Every push, every shove. He was made of fun of, belittled, and it was slowly weakening him. His blade, a blade he would not forsake no matter the penalty, was absorbing this weakness and dragging him down.

   Sayaka held on tightly to her hands. She could hear ever metallic clang and crash. Each one scared her, but she refused to look up lest her hopes dashed. She knew something the duellists did not.

   Borne from her soul, came those swords and she could feel them as their hilts were drawn from within her. She had felt their edges on her skin, on her flesh. She knew what they were of and she knew what they would be. She had to hope even in this losing situation, even though it was going against all that she had learned with torture in the teachings.

   Yuri loosely slashed his sword around. Its charm seemed to grow with each swing for the sunlight illuminated its beauty. A beauty that looked like a sin in Shun’s eyes as it was his life that was nearly on the edge of such a fine and jeweled blade. His heart raced.

   Yuri’s brow quirked. He smiled. “I will be taking my wife now.” he threatened.

   Sayaka flinched beneath the voice of such a declaration. She clasped on tightly and continued to say her prayers as she tried to resist the echoing voices of despair. Yuri would be a good husband, Yuri will be a good husband, Yuri will be a good husband: NO!

   No. He wouldn’t. She loves another who will treat her well. But she could not bring herself to say his name, so she had entrusted her strength with him instead.

   In this arena, seemingly excused from the violence, Sayaka was duelling with her own enemies as well. She may not duel with swords, but she still dealt with evils. Inside her mind, her hopes and her re-education were viciously dancing in an arena of their own. All her turmoil swirled inside of her and yet, she was able to keep her chin out and her eyes dry. It was remarkable.

   Yuri lunged forth. Shun parried back. He refused. Sayaka would not be the wife of a princeling brat. Yuri continued to try and overpower Shun. He tried to exert all his strength upon Shun and Shun’s blade. A true thrust pushed upon them both and the grip on Shun’s thin boots slid back, losing grit.

   Just a little more, they both thought, as they accepted the reality that a victor was about to emerge.

  He willed himself further. And he fell apart.

   A miracle seized the heart of Sayaka. It seized the heart of all who looked on. The Royal Family were visibly aghast. Dennis audibly gasped. And no one had ever seen something quite like this. All the people here for the blood-sport had just borne witness to something magical.

   It was Yuri who fell apart. Or, more accurately, his blade. Shun had attempted to throw off his clingy enemy and there was an unreal force it. From the dust of his movements, magic rose up. Coils of flame, wispy and blue, rose up and threaded around him like beads on a necklace. Then, seemingly in reaction, Yuri’s blade fell apart.

   The jewels turned to lead and coal. The metal lost its mettle. Yuri was now unguarded with only his hilt and it to had turned brittle. With that, Shun was able to make a grand and unforeseen come back.

   Sayaka gently lifted her head. Her eyes shone and were misted with phantom tears. She was reverberating with excitement. This was it. This was the moment in which all was possible and there was want for naught. She knew Shun could do it. She knew he, the rebellious, pauper falcon, could rise against Yuri the decadent, starving dragon.

   With a stupendous heave, Shun thrust back. Yuri guarded with his hilt and their collision came with a great clang. Yuri blinked and Shun managed to clip the antenna-like tufts of pale violet hair which stuck from its soft mound. Shun smirked.

   “I will be taking my friend home.” Shun threatened.

   He ripped his sword back and swung it around. Its weight did not hinder him as those flickering orbs rose with him, turning the burden weightless, and he slashed across Yuri’s front. Yuri was pushed back. He dropped what was left of his once gorgeous blade. It clattered on the stone.

   In his spread legs, Shun stood. And he stood tall, proudly. He pointed the tip of his blade under Yuri’s chin.

   Yuri seethed but he was defenceless. He was also proud. He could not stoop low in what was supposed to be an honourable match. He was amoral, but he was not without dignity.

   “I – I surrender.” Yuri weakly lifted his hands.

   Shun had won. Fair and square.

   “Wh-Wh-What?!” Dennis shrieked clownishly. “Lancer Shun of Clover has taken the Cheer Fae Bride! I believe we can all wish them a happy union, don’t you?”

   Shun swallowed as he dropped his blade. He couldn’t believe it. Yuri clambered to his feet. He skulked off as Shun basked in the glory of victory. He was hailed with thunderous applause, and hypocrisy. Those who had once heckled, now called him hero. It was pathetic.

   But that didn’t matter. That wasn’t what was bringing him to the brink of tears and of losing all composure. He turned around. Sayaka took a hesitant step forward. Seeing her reluctance and her hopefulness was too much. His lower lip wobbled, and it turned to a joyous sob.

   Seeing that, it was like a heavy veil had been removed from Sayaka’s eyes and she could see clearly. Tears spilled out from beneath her long eyelashes. The hesitance in her step turned to brashness. She cast off all reluctance as she ran into the arms of her beloved.

   Shun welcomed her warmly. His arms wrapped around her. She snuggled in tightly to his sun-warmed chest. She inhaled deeply. She could still smell the countryside perfume upon him, as well s sweat and leather. It was all the fragrance of home to her. Shun was her home.

   “Sayaka….” he murmured. “I love you… so much.”

   “Shun…”

   There were no words in Sayaka’s vocabulary which would aptly, which would accurately, describe the emotions she was feeling. There was no way in which she could articulate the maelstrom inside of her, and yet, the mere nae of “Shun” came closer than all other fanciful and ethereal words she could have used in its stead.

   “Let’s go home. Together.” Shun told her.

   Shun slowly released Sayaka from his hug. There were teardrops in her hair and he didn’t know who had shed them. He smiled a curt half-smile. Sayaka slowly released Shun from her own hug. Still, their arms interlocked.

   “Shun… You are my home.” Sayaka replied, tearfully.

   They continued to reel back slowly, giving each other space. Were they acting as blessed lovers or reunited friends, neither were certain. However, as he gazed into Sakaya’s gorgeous eyes, Shun could see his fortunate fate in her shining blue eyes. He tucked a lavender curl of her hair behind her ear and he lowered himself slightly. She raised herself to meet him, delicately struggling on her tip-toes. Their lips met.

   Tender and shy at first, a curious peck. Their eyes fluttered closed. Sayaka extended her hand and Shun held it firmly. He was never letting go. His other hand remained by her cheek, caressing her gently. Sayaka held onto the hem of her dress as she kissed back, innocently, fervently.

   And, with that, Shun knew he would get his happily ever after. He also knew that Sayaka would get hers. He would ensure it as it was his duty as her husband.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun Fact: This fic took influence from Revolutionary Girl Utena and the songs in the Court of The Crimson King by King Crimson and Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen.
> 
> Also, I really like giving Yuri swords... This is the second time I've written a fic where he gets into a swordfight with the protagonist. The other such fic would be my Serenadeshipping fic, On Changing Tides so check it out if that's your thing.


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